


zaterdag 22:02

by wasteourdaysdreaming



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 02:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasteourdaysdreaming/pseuds/wasteourdaysdreaming
Summary: And now he was at a party with a girl that he liked but not in the right way, standing across the room from a boy that he liked but in the wrong way.Or: where I write my feelings because our boys are sad.
Relationships: Robbe Ijzermans/Sander Driesen
Comments: 14
Kudos: 138





	zaterdag 22:02

Robbe had known, on some level, that he would probably run into Sander tonight. He just — hadn’t really let himself think about it. After blocking him on Thursday morning, he’d tried hard not to think of the boy at all. And when Noor, soft and sweet and tentative, had asked him if he wanted to come with her to a house party on Saturday night — to make things better — he’d agreed. Because he felt guilty. And because he liked Noor -- just not in the way that he was supposed to like her. But even still, it had been three days since they had kissed — and kissed and kissed — and it still felt like it was all he could think about. 

But of course Sander was there when they arrived at the house. 

The universe had a way of fucking with Robbe like that. 

And Robbe knew, realistically, that he didn’t have any right to feel that pang in his chest when he noticed Britt at his side. Robbe was there with his own girlfriend, after all. (He knew it wasn’t the same; Robbe and Noor weren’t like Sander and Britt. They were — had been? — a couple. He and Noor — weren’t.) But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, seeing Sander’s hand in hers, seeing Britt whisper something in his ear to be heard over the music and the crowd. 

Because Robbe knew what it felt like, now. Knew what it felt like to have those hands — those strong, beautiful, boyish hands — on him. On his neck, his face, tangled in his hair, gripping his shoulder. And he knew how the skin of his neck tasted, what the patch of skin behind Sander’s ear felt like under his mouth, how his nose brushed against his platinum hair. Robbe knew — and he couldn’t just forget, no matter how much he wanted to.

He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. 

He only half hears Noor when she tells him that she’s going to get them a drink, eyes still fixated on the other boy. He hears her say something about Britt, feels a quick squeeze of his hand, and then she’s gone, dark hair swaying as she dodges between bodies. Watches as she makes her way towards Britt and Sander, tapping Britt on the shoulder and hugging her in greeting. Feels it when Sander’s gaze flicks up and catches. And Robbe — he’s frozen, rooted to the spot as Noor and Britt leave for the kitchen. As Sander makes his way towards him. 

And then, all at once, Robbe’s moving — weaving through crowds of people, trying to hide. Because he can’t do this, he can’t talk to Sander. Not after what happened. Not after they kissed in that pool, finally, finally. Not after they had pulled their clothes back on, shivering, shooting shy glances at each other, or after they had cycled away from the pool, laughing quietly and shaking from adrenaline and the cold. 

They’d had to go back through the tunnel, and Sander had pulled him close in the elevator, breathless and smiling, pressing Robbe against himself with their bikes between them. And Robbe had let him, had encouraged him, wrapping a hand around Sander’s neck and keeping him close, mouths pressed together. They’d parted with a final kiss, Robbe’s eyes slipping shut, and he’d felt the pull of Sander’s smile against his own. Felt the whispered I’ll speak to you tomorrow against his lips, and he’d nodded, petting the hair at Sander’s nape one more time. Tomorrow, he’d replied, watching Sander cycle away before slipping inside the flat, footsteps light as not to wake anyone. 

He’d woken up smiling — and then Zoe’s words had brought him crashing back down, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach and making his throat feel tight. Noor. And then Sander had sent him a message — that sweet message asking him if he’d slept well, with a kiss emoji and Robbe had just — stopped.

He was an awful person. For multiple reasons. And now he was at a party with a girl that he liked but not in the right way, standing across the room from a boy that he liked but in the wrong way. 

More people had arrived at the house in the short space of time since they got there, and it’s difficult to move around the bodies quickly without forcibly shoving people out of the way. But Robbe needs to move, needs to leave (even if it means ditching Noor again), because he can’t do this, can’t speak to this boy that makes him feel like that. 

Sander catches his wrist as he gets to the door. Because of course he does. And Robbe freezes, refuses to turn around. Because if he does, it’s over, his resolve will crumble. 

“Robbe.” He can barely hear Sander over the din, but his voice has the hairs on his arms standing up, a flash of heat rolling down his spine. He’s so aware of everything Sander does. “Robbe.” 

“Please,” Robbe says, and his voice cracks. He’s always been a soft speaker, never as loud or brash as the other boys, and in that moment, more than ever, he hates it. “Please don’t make me do this now.” Sander’s hand feels like a brand on his skin. 

Sander ignores him — because of course he does. If Robbe has learnt anything about Sander, which is still very little considering the impact he’s had on Robbe’s life in such a short space of time, is that Sander will push him. Which is why Robbe isn’t surprised when Sander slips past him, hand still wrapped around Robbe’s wrist, and pulls. 

Robbe follows, because Robbe has also realised that he would probably follow Sander anywhere. 

“Sander, the girls…” Robbe says, glancing over his shoulder to look back at the crowd of people in the living room. He can’t see them — they must still be in the kitchen. Sander doesn’t say anything, doesn’t acknowledge that Robbe’s even spoken, just continues to drag Robbe down the hallway, before starting up the stairs. It’s late enough that people are past the point of tipsy, those in the hallway not paying any attention to them, caught up in their own conversations, their own kisses, their own private bubbles. Sander is trying different door handles, ducking out quickly when he interrupts a couple inside one room. Distantly, Robbe recognises that it would be comical, that he’d be endeared by the slightly startled expression that crosses Sander’s face under other circumstances. But all he feels is trepidation as he’s led down the hallway. 

Finally, one of the doors opens, and Sander pulls Robbe over the threshold, leading Robbe further into the room and through another door, before turning to lean against the wood himself. Robbe hears the lock click and he swallows. He registers vaguely that they’re in an en suite; he can see his reflection in a mirror above the sink out of the corner of his eye. Sander’s hair is practically white under the lights, and it hurts to look at him. Robbe feels trapped — but also like he’s where he’s supposed to be for the first time since Wednesday night. 

He can’t do this. 

“What happened?” Sander’s voice is quiet, but determined. His gaze is focused on Robbe, pinning Robbe in place, and there’s none of the usual humour that stretches his mouth into that lopsided smirk. Robbe misses it, and then quickly shuts that thought down when it spirals to other thoughts of Sander’s mouth, of what it felt like against his own. “Robbe.”

“We shouldn’t be here,” Robbe breathes, eyes slipping shut. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Doing what?!” Sander’s voice is louder now, frustrated. Robbe keeps his eyes shut. “Robbe, we kissed — and then you completely ghosted me!” Sander sighs. “At least tell me what I did wrong.”

Robbe’s eyes fly open at that, gaze raking over the other boy. “You didn’t do anything!” he says. “But I— we—” His breath hitches, trying to find the words. “What about Britt?” he asks quietly, instead. 

A look of guilt flashes across Sander’s features, brows pulling together. Robbe wants to rub his thumb against his forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I told you,” Sander says quietly, exasperated with a slight shake of his head, “Britt and I aren’t working anymore.”

“Does she know that?” Robbe shoots back, regretting it when he sees Sander recoil from his words slightly. This isn’t Sander’s fault — it’s Robbe’s fault. “We can’t do this to her, Sander. Not after Jens cheated on her as well.” 

“I know that,” Sander says. So Britt told him about that then. “I was going to tell her — on Thursday.” Robbe’s pulse picks up. “And then you disappeared.” Suddenly, Robbe wants to cry. How many people has he managed to hurt lately? 

“You were going to tell her?” His voice is quiet again. He was going to tell her. “About me?”

Sander pushes himself away from the door, stepping towards Robbe slowly, like he’s scared to startle him. “Not necessarily about you,” he says. “I wouldn’t do that unless you wanted me to. But I was going to tell her that I don’t want to be with her anymore.” 

“Because you want to be with me?” Robbe doesn’t know where the words, the courage, come from. It seems to be a hazard around Sander generally, losing control like that. Or maybe it’s bravery — Sander makes him want to fight for things that he’s never had the strength to fight for before. 

“Yeah, Robbe,” Sander says on a huff of laughter, like he can’t believe Robbe. “Because I want to be with you.” He’s standing in front of Robbe now, the tips of their shoes almost touching. Robbe isn’t sure how that happened — but he’s not pushing him away. Before he can stop himself, he’s reaching out, catching Sander’s hand in his and linking their fingers. He can feel the grin stretching at his mouth. 

“You want to be with me.”

“Fucking hell,” Sander breathes, and then he’s cupping Robbe’s face, “come here.” And then they’re kissing and it’s like Robbe’s awake again for the first time since racing down that tunnel. And he knows that they still have a lot to talk about, and that he needs to speak to Noor and Sander needs to speak to Britt, but. He has Sander with him right now — and somehow that’s all that matters.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever posted anything, so I'm a little nervous... Any comment is appreciated, my loves!


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